A Lucky Charm
by SunburstsandSpearmint
Summary: A small, two-chapter story about the good luck charm given to Matthew by his cousin. Alternates perspectives. My very first story on this website, so please tell me what you think!
1. Chapter 1

November, 1916

Chapter One

_Ridiculous_, she thought, as she scrubbed away as her life depended on it. _ Absolutely ridiculous. He's a boy. They're dirty enough as it is. Not to mention he's… well._ Lady Mary Crawley of Downton Abbey didn't like to think that way. _What way, Mary? Rationally? Oh do shut UP, _she thought_, _cursing herself. She didn't like to think of her cousin at war, and of the horrible conditions he must be preparing to live in. Mud, rats, dried blood, she shuddered at the thought. _What are a few stains going to be to the ones he'll collect over there. _Yet she continued to scrub away. She was poised over her bathroom sink, a borrowed scrub brush of sorts in her hand, one she had snuck away when Mrs. Patmore wasn't looking. Her hands were becoming redder and more irritated at the minute, but she vowed not to give in. The small item in her hand was being given a bath, so to speak. The cloth dog had been a tan color originally, but it was now a bit of a sandy gray. Its underbelly contained splotches, stains, tears sewn up by various maids, and patches of cloth missing. Though not noticeable at first, the stains on the little dog were most certainly there… seemingly for good. Mary cursed under her breath, turned the water off, and perched against the windowsill.

Turning the small dog in her hand, she sighed. _Maybe these stains are meant to stay on forever,_ she pondered. She could see the marks from multiple teatimes, spilled in her lap as a child. She saw the dusty red color underneath the dog's hind left leg. Edith had convinced her when they were on the cusp of their teenage years, that their mother wouldn't mind if they used her lipstick in a game of dress-up. She had. So startled when she came in Mary's room, and seeing the angry fire in Cora Crawley's eyes, the lipstick bounced to the floor, forgotten… marking Mary's constant companion in the process. Her index finger picked at various tears in the fabric. The one near the dog's right ear was sewn up by Beatrice, an older maid long since retired. Mary remembered how she used to press the dog's tiny ear to her nose and inhale, thumb in mouth. The dog smelled like home, and safety, protection from angry remarks by Edith. The dog smelled like quiet in a house that never was.

Mary shook her head. _The things we imagine when we are young,_ she thought. _How children believe the most fantastic things._ Her eyes soon fell to other stitchings, one by Anna who noticed it while making Lady Mary's bed. Mary didn't sleep with her dog often at that point. She was a grown woman. But she needed it that night. She needed something to hold onto. _War. She was facing the idea of war, a war that would last God-knows how long. She was facing a war with a broken heart._ She knew on such a night it was selfish to think about her heart when so many men would soon perish. But she couldn't help it. She had lost him, and it was her own damn fault for being foolish and impulsive with a foreigner. Anna found the dog the next morning, along with something she recognized to be tried tears on Mary's pillow. She took it down to the kitchen without a word, and by nightfall the dog had returned. He returned, that is, with a much sturdier connection between the tail and the body. Mary noticed Anna's act of kindness right away, but couldn't bring herself to comment on it. Commenting on it would mean acknowledgement of her weakness in a moment of pain.

_Enough. Enough reminiscing. _Mary Crawley quietly realized the stains would stay. The stains on this tiny dog were a part of her as much as her freckles on the back of her neck, the dark hair she hated to put up, and the eyes which could hide emotions so well. So well, that is, except for the people who could see through her, bones, flesh, feelings, heartbreak and all. One was now sleeping, no doubt, in his bed downstairs at this ungodly hour. Maybe Carson could see through her so easily because he hid inside his own body as well. _Thank God for Carson_ she silently said. _I don't know what I would do without his presence, honestly. _

And the other. The other, the only other person who could see through her was sleeping as well. Not as fitfully, she presumed. No, her cousin was probably thrashing about in his sheets, dreams of a war he was not meant to fight in his head. He would awake in mere hours, to leave once again for the damned war. Matthew was not meant to fight in "The Great War" as they called it. But who was? War changed people. It changed their opinions, their views, and their feelings towards one another. _Matthew could die. He could, Mary, stop denying it. He could die in the drenches, blood of other men mixed with his own. He could die with no final wishes granted, no last remarks spoken. He could die, Mary. You would never hear his maddening chuckle directed towards you again. You would never see those eyes, full of life, glinting wherever, whenever. You would never feel his hands, coarse fingertips and all, against your waist, leading you onto a dance floor. You would never smell his unique scent again, aftershave mixed with the smell of the books he so often holds. His scent, which you wish you could bottle and keep forever, attempting to figure out what is that hint of something you just can't recognize. You'd never figure out .It would forever remain a mystery. You would never again just feel his presence when he walks into a room, even if your back is turned. You would never taste-_

Lady Mary Crawley could not afford to think that way. She just couldn't. She spread out her nightgown, and stood up to look in the mirror. Ignoring her red cheeks and the tears in her eyes, she took the dog in her hand, and exited the bathroom. She carefully placed the dog to dry on her nightstand, and curled up quietly. Recently she had been doing this bedroom routine, placing something on her nightstand to fall asleep gazing at. She had felt so little recently. Like a child, once again. And if it was necessary to put something there to help her fall asleep, so be it. She squeezed her eyes shut and thought _what would someone think of me, honestly. I'm a woman in my twenties and I still curl up in the fetal position._ She sighed, trying to push thoughts out of her head for good, which only made them more prominent. _He could die. You would never- _"I know", she spoke in a whisper to the silent room. "I know he could perish in battle, I know we're not engaged anymore, and I know, God almighty, I know I can't hide it anymore, at least to myself, that I still love him." _And that if all I can achieve in this lifetime is to be his friend, I'll take it. _"I'll take it", she whispered to know one, wincing at what that might mean. _ I'll be his friend, and I'll watch him get married to her, I'll watch him play with children with as eyes blue as his, and I'll be a wreck. But I'll be his friend. _Mary buried herself deeper into the covers and whispered, before letting sleep overtake her "And that's why I'm meeting him at the station tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

By the time Matthew Crawley had gotten dressed, shaved, eaten his breakfast, and heard the gate click closed behind him, it was decided. This day was as good a reason as any to be thankful for what he had. The air was crisp, the November breeze chilling, and he was glad for his heavy uniform. Bag in hand; he hoped the walk to the train station would clear his thoughts. The smell of smoke in the air, the feel that winter was indeed coming… it was so breathtakingly beautiful and yet heartbreaking at the same time. This time of year always brought about a specific kind of sadness, he believed. He was once again leaving his home. If someone had told Matthew Crawley that he would one day look at Downtown Abbey as his home, he would have scoffed. The old architecture, the wall hangings, the décor… it all seemed as unlike a home as possible when he first arrived four years prior.

Now however, the large doorways, the spacious rooms, the beautiful grounds… he'd learned to love them. He'd changed during the years he'd spent there. He'd learned about matters of an estate, he'd been considered a son by a man who was not his father, and he'd fallen in love. _How things can change in a handful of years, _he pondered. _I could have been married by now. I could have had children. I could have never left the side of the woman I…loved. _He sighed. _Don't be utterly ridiculous Matthew. War waits for no man. Even if you were married you would have gone to war. And isn't it better this way? What if you had married Mary, and known true happiness, only to be lying face down in a ditch somewhere? She won't ever have to deal with the pain of being a widow….She didn't want to deal with the pain of being your WIFE, remember? _Matthew cursed under his breath and told himself to get a hold of himself. That was all in the past. Besides, he and Mary were finally on good terms. After not seeing her for almost two years, they were friends. They were friends, and he couldn't ask for more. He couldn't. He was leaving Downtown with that at least. And _I must be thankful for that, _he thought, as the train station came into view.

And there was Lavinia. Beautiful, sweet, and innocent. She had snuck up on him, she had. After that day the war was announced, that breezy July day, he didn't think it was possible… to have his heart healed, to smile at someone he imagined he would marry, to love. To love like that… that passionate feeling that made him insane. The fire in Mary's eyes that made him feel challenged, the clenching of his stomach when they were alone, and the feel of her lips on his. He hadn't felt that intoxicating, renewing, consuming, challenging, loving love from his bride-to-be yet… but he knew, he hoped it would come. _It must. Dear God, it must. _He thought that Mary had truly broken his heart that day in July, but he was wrong. It was only a piece… a prominent piece, but a piece nonetheless. _That's all it was. Just a piece. _He still could love. He loved his mother, and Robert, a surrogate father. He loved Lady Sybil's strides towards a more modern, a better world. He loved Edith's decisions against what was expected. He loved Cora's welcoming nature from the beginning, becoming more genuine as the days progressed. He loved the prickly humor of the Dowager Countess, whom he believed cared a bit more than she let on. He loved Mary'sfriendship. _That needs to be enough, Matthew. Let that be enough. _

And he loved Lavinia. He loved her. She was so good to him. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her, he loved her. He loved the idea that they still had so much to learn from each other. He loved her. He loved her hair, glinting in the sunlight. He loved her. He loved her optimism. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her capacity to love. He loved her. He loved her.

_I just need to convince myself that she is the only one I love. _

_The one I want to spend a lifetime with. The one I want to see in my children's faces, alongside mine. The one I want to have my fingers entwined with, always. The one I want to go to sleep next to, and wake up beside. The one I want to spend sleepless nights with tangled up in our sheets, and each other. The body I want to feel next to mine, nothing separating us. The love I want to prove to her, covering every inch of her body with the one thing I can give: my love. And my love-_

He jumped at the sound of the train whistle, blowing shrilly into the early morning air. Matthew shook his head and tried to put such visions out of his head, knowing they did no good. _For god's sake Matthew, _he thought shamefully, _at least think those things about the woman you're engaged to. _Matthew knew he loved Lavinia, he truly did. But there was something about Mary he couldn't get out of his mind. The way she rolled her eyes at something said. The way she simply refused to back down in the heat of an argument. The way she hid her emotions so well, only to come unraveled at a single word. Yes, Matthew Crawley had studied, learned, watched, and yes, loved his cousin in a way he had a feeling few had. He realized her hard exterior was protection, protection from her fear of getting hurt. He knew the way she took her tea, how she secretly hated the idea of being disliked downstairs, her love of all things historical, and the lies she told. He knew of her childhood memories, whether they be arguing with Edith, caring for Sybil, reading a large volume of ancient Greece in her father's lap, or crying to her mother. He knew she hated the freckle behind her right ear, loved telling stories, and feared pain and suffering, even death to the people she loved. Anyone who said Lady Mary Crawley was cold, cruel, and one dimensional didn't know her in the slightest. And that was a fact.

Checking his watch, Matthew realized it was just about time to depart. The idea that he might never be standing in this spot again struck him. Perhaps he would never walk through the great doors of Downtown Abbey again. He would never marry, never be a father to anyone. He would never grow old holding the hand of the one he held most dear. He might never…

Lieutenant Matthew Crawley's thoughts were interrupted as the steam and smoke cleared. Thirty feet ahead was a figure in maroon, her back to Matthew's surprised face. The figure turned around, and he knew he was not mistaken. Half-smile on his face, he walked to greet her. Twisting her bag in her hands, she spoke first.

"Don't worry- I haven't come to undo your good work of the other night" she said, waving a hand in the air. Oh god, he thought. _I wish you would, Mary. I wish I could just gather you in my arms this very instant. This isn't how I want to say goodbye, God forbid it's the last time we see each other. _

Instead, he pulled himself together and said "You must have been up before the servants" at which Mary smiled and admitted "They were rather surprised to see me." Matthew noticed as she said this that she looked very pale. She had small circles under her eyes and he suspected that he wasn't the only one who had not slept well the night before. Tired as she was, she had met him there. She had come to see him off. Against his own warnings, that fact made his heart soar. And God, forgive him, pale, circles and all, she was beautiful. The color of her coat stood out against that cold November morning, and he'd never felt more alive staring at her, her eyes looking into his.

"I wanted to give you this" she said quietly, looking down and breaking their eye contact as she opened her small bag with a click. Reaching inside, she pulled out something which appeared to be a small cloth creature. Handing it over, she said "It's my lucky charm. I've had it always. "

Taking the tiny creature which he now recognized as a dog in his gloved hand, he smiled. The dog was a bit worn, and appeared to have a few small stains. He wondered when and how they got there.

"So you must promise to bring it back without a scratch" she said, fixing him with a stare and a smile that was so distinctly Mary. It made his heart break a bit.

"Won't you need it?" he said, to which she replied "Not as much as you", which they both knew was true. Blue eyes met brown once again, but she pulled away, saying "So look after it, please". He stopped fingering the dog and placed it gently in his pocket, in a way he hoped Mary could realize how much her gesture meant, and how carefully he would take care of it.

"I'll try not to be a hero, if that's what you're afraid of." "Just come back, safe and sound" she said with a smile and a nod, and surprised her cousin even further by asking "Did you have a happy time, yesterday?"

_God, Mary, how I wish I could tell you the truth. I wish I could tell you that I wish we had spent my last day together instead. I wish I could tell you that._

Instead he looked at a spot to the left of her face and said with a sad smile "I showed Lavinia the places I like the most. Give her a few memories." _Say it. Say it while you can. Tell her."_ Mary if I don't come back-"

"But-"

"No", he said, fixing her with his gaze. "If I don't, then do remember how very glad I am that we made up when we had the chance. I mean it- You send me off to war a happy man." The smile she gave him in response tugged at his heartstrings and almost was enough to let go. To let go, and kiss her. To let go, and tell her he still cared. That he more than cared, he loved her with his whole aching, selfish heart. But she didn't feel the same. _Remember that. She wanted something else, a future, and a love that you could not provide. Remember that, and respect that._

Instead he plowed on, and said "Will you do something for me? Will you- Will you look after Mother… if anything happens?

"Of course we will- but it won't", she responded, shaking her head. He knew she didn't wish to think of such things, but he had to go on.

"She's young, she'll find someone else. I hope she will anyway. ..Until she does."

Mary nodded in response, and looked as though she was about to say something when the whistle sounded for the last time. Matthew saw her intake of breath and heard her say "Goodbye then."

What she did next astounded him. Taking the few steps that parted them, she leaned in and stood tall, and pressed her lips to his cheek. He could have sworn he felt her eyelashes flutter shut for an instant against his jaw. And then she pulled away, and Matthew would have given all of what little money he had to have had it last a moment longer. But the train was ready, and she simply said with a smile "And such good luck."

His pulse still racing from the kiss, and his heart aching like he had never felt it before, he said "Goodbye Mary. And God bless you." With one last look, he turned away, and left her standing there. The door which read FIRST in gold letters shut quietly and he made his way to his seat, seeing her face for one more instant out the window before the train began to leave the station.

Taking off his hat, Lieutenant Matthew Crawley leaned back against the seat, his hand on the pocket which held his one true connection to home, and her. He left his cousin on the platform that November morning, but he also realized that he couldn't escape her. No matter where he went, when, and how, she would always take his breath away, just as the first time he saw her. And he loved her, God, how he loved her still.


End file.
